


Me and Jesse McCree

by DinosaurVictrola



Category: Overwatch (Video Game)
Genre: Alcohol, Fluff and Angst, Hanzo is physically incapable of not ruining his own life, Implied/Referenced Alcohol Abuse/Alcoholism, Inspired by Music, It's a medical condition, M/M, Night Terrors, One Shot, Pining, Pre-Recall, Regret, Travel, Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-06-13
Updated: 2018-06-13
Packaged: 2019-05-21 15:57:28
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 9,444
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14918411
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DinosaurVictrola/pseuds/DinosaurVictrola
Summary: Taking place before the recall, Hanzo travels across America with McCree, going wherever life takes them. Until the day comes when Hanzo foolishly believes he can't make his cowboy happy anymore.





	Me and Jesse McCree

At the edge of Baton Rouge and waiting for the train to come, Hanzo was certain that they were going to wind up stranded in the coming storm as the clouds were gathering and the sky was darkening as rain prepared to fall. A small drop fell upon his nose, the clouds above giving him fair warning to the downpour about to come, and he felt what was left of his spirit fade just a bit further. The trains were delayed today, and McCree was off trying to find an alternative mode of travel for the two of them before the rain started. .

 

A sharp whistle called his attention and reminded Hanzo that when life enjoys taking whatever opportunity it has to prove you wrong, sometimes it works out in your favor. “Hanzo!” McCree called as he stood beside a van, “I caught us a ride! Grab your bags and c’mon!” Smiling for what must have been the first time all day, Hanzo picked up his things and jogged over to his lover, helping him load up their few bags before hopping into the vehicle.

 

A kind omnic man had agreed to let the pair ride with him in his van into New Orleans, much to the gratitude of his new passengers. Almost as soon as the doors to the van closed, the rain began falling in earnest. “Looks like I picked you fellas up just in time,” The slightly-rusted omnic noted as he switched on his windshield wipers, “Any longer and you both woulda been soaked to your bones.”

 

“Shoot, you ain’t kiddin’,” McCree agreed, looking out the window. Early in the evening, and yet the sky was dark as though it were already night. “Some days gettin’ caught out in the rain is nice, but not when it’s comin’ down like this.”

 

“I prefer staying away from the water all together, but that’s just me being afraid of short-circuiting. So, what all’s bringing you two down to N’awlins?”

 

“Nothin’ in particular. We just sort of go where the wind takes us.”

 

“Well don’t that sound like a way to live. Must be nice havin’ that kinda freedom.”

 

“Yeah, well… Y’all know what they say. ‘Freedom is just another word for nothing left to lose’.”

 

“Hmm, I s’pose that’s true enough.” The omnic said with a nod. Hanzo noticed him look in his rearview mirror at him. “Your friend there don’t talk much, does he?”

 

Having finally been given an entrance into the conversation, Hanzo didn’t pass up the chance to speak for himself. “It is not so much that I am quiet so much as _this one_ ,” Hanzo jabbed his thumb toward McCree, “always speaks before I get a chance to.”

 

McCree chuckled and the driver laughed, tinny and mechanical compared to the gunslinger’s deep and rich one, which brought a small smile to Hanzo’s face. “Oh I know what that’s like all too well. Just make sure he don’t meet my wife, and I think we’ll be fine.” The driver reached over to the radio and turned it on, flipping though stations before settling on some blues. “Hope you fellas don’t mind some music.”

 

“Your ride, your rules, pardner. Matter of fact, I think I know this song.” McCree rifled through his pockets, his search for whatever he wanted hampered by his sitting position. After a moment of lookinging, he pulled his harmonica from his pocket and began playing along with the song on the radio. Hanzo always thought it a treat to hear him play, and as far as he was concerned, McCree never did so often enough.

 

“Say, that ain’t bad, cowboy.” the omnic said, tapping his fingers on the steering wheel. “Don’t suppose your pal’d like to sing?”

 

Hanzo raised an eyebrow and looked to McCree, who paused in his playing. “Let’s ask him. Feel like joinin’ in, darlin’?”

 

Hanzo could sing, yes, but blues wasn’t a genre he really knew as well as McCree. Instead, he held out his hand. “Let me play the harmonica. You know the words to these songs better than I do.”

 

McCree nodded and handed over the instrument, then began singing along with the song on the radio. The occasions where he and his cowboy had been made to sing for their suppers had taught Hanzo to play the harmonica, though McCree was unquestionably the better of the two when playing it. He was familiar enough with this song to keep playing where his lover had left off, though, and the windshield wipers clapping in time to the music helped him while McCree sang.

 

“You boys are pretty good!” the omnic said as the song faded and he shut off the radio to better enjoy the impromptu concert. “You two know any other songs?”

 

Deciding that providing some entertainment was the least that they could do in exchange for a free ride, McCree and Hanzo played songs at the request of their driver. He named a blues song, and the cowboy would sing while the archer played the harmonica. Luckily, he was familiar enough with each song the driver requested to play while only missing a few notes. Though he was momentarily embarrassed with each mistake he made, McCree holding his hand in encouragement helped him keep going. He had no idea of the lyrics to these songs, but thankfully McCree knew. All the way into New Orleans, the omnic would name a song, and the men in the backseat would play it. When they finally arrived, they were dropped off in front of a motel, and the driver actually tried to pay them for the entertainment they had given him. They turned him down, however, saying that the free ride had been payment enough. As the kindly omnic pulled out of the lot and the lovers walked inside to rent a room, Hanzo couldn’t shake the smile he wore from his face, even though playing the harmonica for much longer than he normally did had his cheeks hurting. Playing music as they had spent their car ride doing had put him in a good mood, and looking to McCree, he seemed to be feeling the same.

 

* * *

 

“Mmm, lower.” Hanzo moaned. McCree obliged, rubbing the sunscreen lower into Hanzo’s back as the other man laid on the beach towel beneath their umbrella. The sun was stronger in Southern California, and after an afternoon of splashing in the surf, Hanzo needed some help reapplying his sunblock, lest he burn like a marshmallow, as McCree liked to phrase it. Hanzo didn’t have any problems with this, however. After all, what better excuse than not wanting a sunburn to get a massage from one’s boyfriend?

 

Not that McCree ever needed an excuse to pamper Hanzo, but that was beside the point.

 

Los Angeles had been treating the pair well so far, and despite all that they had seen, there was always something else with their names on it, calling out to them with a siren song whether they had already seen it or not. “I still want to return to West Hollywood at some point,” Hanzo said, “That store looked far too interesting for us not to see what it has.”

 

“I agree one hundred percent, sugar, but are you talkin’ ‘bout the bookstore or that sex shop with the assless chaps in the window?” McCree asked as he kneaded the heels of his palms into the other man’s back.

 

Hanzo gave a small moan before he could speak again. “Why, I mean both, of course,” he said. He rolled off his stomach and sat up, taking McCree’s face in his hands and kissing him, then grinning at him. “I cannot think of a better way to spend an evening than curling up with a good book, then curling up with a sexy cowboy.”

 

Said cowboy smiled back at him. “Well, replace ‘cowboy’ with ‘ninja’ and I can think of a few things. I think we’d still need to swing by that sex shop, though.”

 

Hanzo laughed, pressing their foreheads together while he ran his fingers through McCree’s wet, sandy hair. “Let us dry off and get dressed again. We have been here on the beach for hours, and I would like to ride the ferris wheel on the pier.”

 

Getting dressed for Hanzo and McCree just meant throwing on a tank top and a tee shirt respectively over their trunks, putting on their flip flops and shaking off as much sand as they could before packing up their things. After throwing their beach items in the back of their rental car, it was off to the Santa Monica Pier as the sun was just beginning to set. McCree bought some cotton candy before they got on the line for the ferris wheel, and soon they were rising up higher and higher on the wheel as they shared the spun sugar.

 

The setting sun shining off the waves of the Pacific was both blinding and beautiful as the two looked out at the horizon, finally at the apex of the ride. McCree wrapped an arm around Hanzo as the other man rested his head on his shoulder.

 

“It is very strange to think,” Hanzo began after a time of comfortable silence, “that somewhere across that horizon is Japan. Hanamura.” The pair could feel how the mood between them went from fun and romantic to introspective and a tad melancholic. “The site of my worst sin, and the life I left behind.”

 

“It must be hard, the way ya go back there every year.” McCree noted, pulling Hanzo just a little closer.

 

The archer sighed and nodded. “It is. Every year when I return to my family’s estate, I am forced to relive all that I did. To family and strangers alike. When I sleep in Hanamura, my mind tortures me with my memories. And yet, I cannot let something so trivial stop me from honoring my brother.”

 

Silence passed between the two, both knowing fully well that when the night terrors struck Hanzo, it was anything BUT trivial. When McCree had first seen him like that, shivering, sweating, struggling to breathe and brought to the edge of breaking, he had been ashamed. And every year, when he left his cowboy behind in America to fulfill his ritual of honoring his brother and the terrors came back in full force, there was nothing Hanzo wanted more than to have McCree beside him, bringing him out of the realm of despair his mind threw him into and back to reality; to his warm embrace.

 

And yet, every year, Hanzo made the trip alone. It was something he was certain he had to do by himself, regardless of his lover’s insistence to the contrary.

 

Looking to the cowboy’s face, it was obvious the way his eyes shifted and he bit his lip that McCree had something he wanted to say, but was conflicted on whether or not to spit it out. Finally, “Next time ya head back to Hanamura, will ya take me with ya? I don’t like the thought that you’re alone when ya need somebody most. Rips me up inside every year.”

 

Hanzo simply gave McCree a smile, touched that the other man cared so much about him. Of course, the gunslinger was the sort of man who always let Hanzo know how much he cared, yet it still meant so much to think of it, just as much as it had in the beginning of their relationship.

 

“Someday. We will get there someday, when the past is less painful.”

 

“That a promise, sugar?” McCree asked, hope shining in the depths of his warm brown eyes.

 

Hanzo kissed McCree, the taste of the cotton candy still rich in both of their mouths. “I promise.” he said, then returned his head to its place on his cowboy’s shoulder. McCree popped the last piece of cotton candy into his mouth, then put the cone beside him on the bench so he could put both arms around his lover, where they belonged. Hanzo placed his hands atop the other man’s, clasped around him, and they stared out at the endless horizon as the ferris wheel began moving once more.

 

* * *

 

Winter had set in, determined to freeze the world beneath its oppressive snow and chill, and the crummy little motel in upstate New York had to serve as a refuge from the cold for Hanzo and McCree, their bodies pressed together in bed as the snow fell in sheets in the night. It was difficult to complain, though. The walls kept the cold out, they had a bed, the blankets were soft enough, and they had each other to stay warm.

 

McCree’s body might as well be a furnace, a fact Hanzo was never more thankful for than on the cold nights of winter. Pressed close to his body as he was, however, it didn’t take long for Hanzo to be woken by the sudden cold sweat he felt on his lover’s body. How he shook and trembled, the gasping breaths and the sounds of fear and terror he made.

 

McCree was having another night terror. Likely of his days with Deadlock or Blackwatch, same as the others.

 

Hanzo sat up and gently shook his lover. “Jesse. Jesse, follow the sound of my voice. It is only a dream, wake up.” He whispered.

 

The cowboy woke up with a start and a cry, grabbing Hanzo’s wrists in a fight-or-flight reaction, still panicked from his nightmare. It took a second for McCree to realize he was awake but a few deep breaths later and he was much calmer, though clearly still shaken by his nightmare. “‘M sorry, darlin’.” He murmured, his voice hoarse and scratchy as he let go of Hanzo’s wrists. He collapsed back onto his pillow, sighing heavily.

 

Leaning over his lover, Hanzo gently brushed McCree’s hair from his face before getting up from bed. He walked to their room’s mini-fridge and pulled out a water bottle, almost as cold as the night air outside. He sat on the edge of the bed and helped McCree sit up so he could drink, hoping the water would be of even the slightest help to him.

 

When he was done with his drink,McCree laid his head in Hanzo’s lap, letting him play with his hair. The only sound was the howlingwind outside and the cowboy taking deep, slow breaths. “You do not need to tell me if you do not want to, but would you like to talk about what you saw? It may help.” The archer requested softly.

 

The other man didn’t immediately speak, and Hanzo was more than happy to give him all the time he needed to find his voice again. Even if he wound up not speaking at all, silently accepting the option of not telling his lover what his nightmare had been about, that would be fine too.

 

“I…” McCree began, pausing to take a few more deep breaths. “I saw faces from Deadlock. I saw Rory, who the bosses assumed was an undercover fed. They… They made us grunts lynch him from the bridge. The way he struggled n’ gasped for air, I can’t ever forget. He was standin’ in front of me, his neck crooked n’ marked from the noose. He was starin’ at me, lookin’ right through me. His eyes were red n’ bleedin’; bloodshot to hell too. I saw these gang members we got into a turf war with once. Just men who didn’t know any other way to get by, dead by my hand. Blood was pourin’ from their bullet wounds like Niagra-goddam-Falls, and still in the middle of their death twitchin’. They were starin’ at me too, right alongside Rory. I saw cops I killed, their uniforms all red. They were surroundin’ me, n’ behind all of ‘em was their families. Everyone they left behind because of _me_. They…” McCree swallowed and gripped Hanzo’s hand tightly, clinging to the lifeline his lover provided.

 

“They were all askin’ me ‘Why? Why did we deserve to die?’ Their families were sayin’ ‘Why did you take them from us?’ I didn’t have any answer for ‘em. I tried to run, but the blood was beginnin’ to pool. N’ then it started burnin’ me. All of their eyes, bloodshot n’ bleedin’, surroundin’ me, n’ meanwhile I’m feelin’ the blood start to eat through my very skin. I’m meltin’ in boilin’ blood, a-and—” He began to hyperventilate again, and his hold on the archer’s hand became tight as a vice as his voice began cracking and his words ran away.

 

“No more,” Hanzo crooned. “You need not say any more. Your dream is over, my darling. You are here now, with me. I will keep you safe.”

 

McCree let out a deep, shaky breath and eased his grip on the other man’s hand. “But they were right though. Why did they deserve to die? What gave me the right to kill ‘em? How much did their families suffer cuz of me? Why them n’ not me?”

 

Silence passed a moment as Hanzo searched for the words to assuage the cowboy’s pain. “Do you remember what you told me after my last night terror? ‘You did not choose your actions. They were chosen for you, and you had to go along with it.’ You have told me of your time with Deadlock in the past, and I believe that same logic applies to you.”

 

“It DON’T apply to me, Hanzo!” McCree cried, tears beginning to stream down his face. And yet, he didn’t even bother to sit up, choosing instead to continue laying in Hanzo’s lap. “You were raised to go along with whatever your clan told ya, it was hardwired into your brain, but me? I ain’t got that excuse! I CHOSE to be Deadlock! I CHOSE to stay with ‘em! I… I…” His voice cracked and trailed off as he buried his face in his hands. “I’m so tired of this. Why is this who I am?”

 

“You mean a kind, caring soul with a passion to help others?” Hanzo asked. “You are not the person you once were, Jesse.”

 

“But why did I have to be someone so horrible in the first place?”

 

“That, I cannot answer. No one can say why something must happen to begin with. We cannot change our pasts. We can only move forward. And Jesse, as long as you are moving forward, I will be here to help you.”

 

McCree didn’t respond at first. Only sniffled and wiped away stray tears as Hanzo carded his fingers through his hair. Eventually, he sat up and looked at his lover, allowing him to see how red his eyes were and the tear streaks left on his face. He gave Hanzo a slow, grateful kiss. “I dunno what I did to deserve ya.”

 

“Perhaps we can wonder that next time I have a night terror and ask that same question,” Hanzo chuckled. This earned a small laugh and another kiss from McCree. The two laid back down and the archer pulled the gunslinger into his arms. “If anymore dreams insist on plaguing you, they will have to get through me first.”

 

He could feel McCree smiling into his chest, grateful for his care. “I love ya, Hanzo.” McCree said, placing a kiss to Hanzo’s pectoral, just above his heart.

 

“I love you as well, Jesse. Now sleep. You deserve to have nice dreams.” Holding him close, Hanzo kept quiet, intent to remain awake until he knew McCree was asleep. When soft snoring let him know that his lover was finally sleeping, Hanzo pressed one final kiss goodnight to the top of his head, then drifted off to sleep as well.

 

* * *

 

The pair’s travels saw them back in California, near Salinas in early spring. In the park, the trees were gradually regaining their green, flowers about to bloom, and the world emerging from its winter slumber as the two men sat in the park and watched it happen around them.There was a palpable distance between the two, however. The silence was thick, practically seated between them.

 

“So, if we were to hypothetically get a place together, where would ya wanna live?” McCree asked.

 

Hanzo sighed and pinched the bridge of his nose. Not this conversation again. “Jesse, please. We have been over this so many times now, and the outcome is never any different.”

 

“I just don’t get _why_ is the thing. I want us to have a home, for us to have a proper life together, but you’re just so vehemently against the very thought of it.”

 

“That sort of life just is not for us, Jesse.” Hanzo said, exasperated. “We cannot have what people would consider a ‘proper’ life. Getting a place together, remaining in one area, that will only make it easier for our enemies to find us.”

 

“We pick off all the bounty hunters n’ assassins that come after us all the time. Sure, maybe more will come once we’re stayin’ put, but we can take those out too, no problem.”

 

“Yes it is a problem! Collateral damage would be a real possibility! What if whoever came for us decided to hurt our neighbors and their families to try and get to us? What then?”

 

“Then we can find a place out in the country, where it’ll just be us. Just us, our little home, n’ whatever family we decided to have.” McCree was growing exasperated as their conversation continued, almost as much as his lover.

 

“I cannot be responsible for shaping another person, Jesse. All I would do is create someone worse than myself, and I will NOT give the world another monster.” Hanzo gripped the bench so tight his knuckles went white.

 

“Dogs, then! We can just get some dogs! Maybe some cats too, if ya want ‘em!” McCree gave an aggravated sigh, momentarily removing his hat to run his hand through his hair. “Every time I think up an alternative, ya just shoot it down. Don’t even offer any kinda solution of your own.”

 

“I told you, that sort of life is just… Beyond reach for men like us.”

 

“It doesn’t have to be that way, Hanzo.” McCree said quietly.

 

“And yet it is. Trying to obtain something we cannot have will only break our hearts, Jesse. Some things simply are.”

 

“No, I know what the truth is. You’re just convinced ya don’t deserve it.” There was no hiding the frustration in McCree’s voice, no matter how he tried. “Honestly? I… I don’t think I deserve it either. But I remember ya told me once that we can’t change our pasts, only move forward. Y’also promised that as long as I’m movin’ forward, you’ll be with me. But now that movin’ forward means makin’ it easier for us to be together, now suddenly things’re different. Are you breakin’ your promise to me, Hanzo?”

 

“How could you accuse me of such a thing?” Hanzo asked, the hurt clear in his eyes. “I want us to be happy together just as much as you do, even if this is hard for us to accept. It is not a matter of whether or not we ‘deserve’ this.”

 

“Do ya really believe that, or do ya just hate yourself more than ya love me?”

 

Hanzo said nothing more as the weight of McCree’s question hit him. What else could he really say, anyway? This conversation always ended the same way, but right now he could almost swear that he felt something in his mind and heart physically shut down, and he was beginning to feel numb.

 

Hanzo began to feel almost removed from time, as though it were moving both slower and somehow also faster as the silence between the two men wore on.

 

“Jesse.”

 

“Hanzo.”

 

“I think that… Somewhere along the way… We grew to want different things.” Hanzo said.

 

“Do we want different things? Or do we want the same thing, but we’ve got different ideas how to get it?”

 

“Is there any difference in this case? Jesse… I think maybe it may be time for us to go our separate ways.”

 

Now it was McCree’s turn to feel hurt, and he looked panicked as well. “What? Y’don’t mean that, right? Hanzo, this ain’t funny, not one bit.” His voice was almost shaking, and that his pain was so very clear only made the archer feel worse. Hanzo looked down to his lap, away from McCree’s desperate gaze before standing up, deciding he simply needed to walk away now to spare them both. The cowboy jumped to his feet and grabbed Hanzo’s hand. “Hanzo, don’t do this. I love ya.” He was almost begging. The numbness was gone and now the archer could feel his heart breaking.

 

Still, he couldn’t let that deter him. He knew when he was facing a wall, and the only way he and McCree could get past it was if they parted ways. He turned and gave his darling cowboy one last kiss, one last taste of the other’s love. “I love you too, Jesse,” Hanzo said, fighting tooth and nail to keep his voice from shaking, “but I know I cannot make you happy anymore.”

 

Hanzo turned and walked away, leaving behind a visibly bewildered and heartbroken McCree.

 

* * *

 

One month was all it took for Hanzo to realize the weight of the mistake he had made. What had he been thinking, believing this would make them happier? He had been alone for years, ever since he’d killed his brother, only to somehow wind up with a man who understood him perfectly.

 

McCree knew what it was like to have a past to be ashamed of. A past of taking part in horrible crimes and hurting innocent people. A past that would understandably have someone near-desperate to rise above it and be a better person. McCree _got it,_ and yet here he was.

 

The best thing that had ever happened to Hanzo, and he had walked away from him.

 

The isolation was more suffocating now than it had been before he’d met McCree. Now that he had felt what the love and support of another person could feel like, now that he had been reminded of what it feels like to _want_ to wake up and see another day, the juxtaposition of once again having nothing was crushing. It was what he deserved, though. If he had been ungrateful enough to give up a man like McCree, then he didn’t deserve him anyway.

 

Still, every morning that Hanzo had to wake up and discover the other side of his bed empty, he had to fight off the urge to run back to America and search for McCree. It had been two years and some change since the breakup, and there wasn’t a doubt in his mind that he would be unable to find the man. The same had been true even when it was only a month after the fact. If there was one thing he knew about the cowboy, it was that he knew how to lay low when he really wanted to. He probably wouldn’t accept whatever apology Hanzo gave anyway, and rightly so. It had been his fault and his fault alone they had broken up; he had broken his heart, and there was no obligation for McCree to forgive him just because he’d apologize.

 

Another night of drinking alone for Hanzo, and never before had he felt so pathetic. Except for last night, when he had done the same exact thing. Regardless, he pulled out his phone and began looking through old pictures of himself and McCree. As bad an idea as it was, he had to see him again, even if his only means of doing so was looking at snippets of their past. The two of them sitting together on a beach, arms around each other. At a music festival. Pictures of the two kissing while wrapped up in rainbow flags at various pride parades. The picture of the pair at a pride parade in San Francisco was still serving as the wallpaper of his phone. Perhaps even more bittersweet were the pictures Hanzo had taken of McCree whenever he was being cute. There was one picture of the gunslinger shoving pancakes into his mouth and looking at the camera with a surprised expression. That one never failed to make Hanzo laugh, and even now it still earned a fond chuckle from him. Another picture was McCree fast asleep, his prosthesis off, hair a mess and drooling onto his pillow. A picture just as beautiful now as it had ever been.

 

Scrolling through his gallery, Hanzo found a video of McCree surrounded by stray cats. He knew it would break his heart to watch, and yet he couldn’t stop himself. Whether he only wanted to hear the other man’s voice again or he wanted to try and pretend he was back in that moment, still with McCree by his side, he didn’t know. Whatever the reason, he simply had to press play.

 

There he was, so close and yet so far. On Hanzo’s phone, he was briskly walking away from a group of stray cats, trying to get away from them, but the strays wouldn’t leave him alone. McCree looked to him behind his camera, and though it was only a recording, Hanzo couldn’t stop his heart skipping a beat when he saw his smile and heard his laugh again.

 

“Hanzo, they won’t leave me alone!” He laughed, gesturing to the cats rubbing up against his legs and meowing up at him.

 

“Do you have some kind of treat on you or something?” Hanzo asked with a chuckle as one of the strays swatted at his lover’s serape.

 

“Naw, it’s cuz I handled that big marlin down at the fish market earlier. I smell like fish, n’ these guys are probably hungry.” He knelt down and immediately the horde of felines began climbing all over him, nuzzling up to him. McCree laughed and set about trying to pet as many of them as possible. “I’m a regular pussy magnet.” He said, and Hanzo snorted, both in the video and in real life.

 

As the cats began piling up, McCree started laughing and looked to Hanzo. “Han, ya gotta help me pet ‘em all.”

 

“I am sorry Jesse, but the truth is I am working with the cats.”

 

McCree gasped, placing a hand over his heart and feigning betrayal. “Hanzo, how could ya? I loved you!”

 

“The offer was too good to refuse.”

 

“What did they offer ya to betray your own man?” The cowboy asked, failing to stifle his laughter as the cats began climbing on him.

 

“More tuna than you could ever provide me. Now be quiet and perish.”

 

Laughing loudly, McCree laid down on the sidewalk as the cats piled on top of him. “NOOOOOO!” He cried out, before going limp and playing dead, the cats completely covering him. Hanzo laughed, a mirth and warmth he hadn’t felt or heard from himself in a long time, and the recording was over.

 

Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from smiling at the memory he’d just replayed, chuckling as an errant tear ran down his cheek. All too soon, though, the sense of crushing loneliness came back, turning his chuckle into quiet sobs as more tears came flowing out. Putting his phone away, he did the only thing he could think to do in this scenario. Order another drink.

 

It was only when the bartender refused to serve him further that Hanzo finally stumbled out of the bar, trying to make his way back to his hotel. When he finally managed to get back to his room, the first thing Hanzo did was collapse onto his bed and check the time on his phone. The date reminded him that he would be returning to Hanamura soon to honor Genji. Which meant the night terrors would be returning soon.

 

Hanzo took one of the pillows on his bed, held it over his face and screamed into it. Why was he so incapable of keeping anyone he cared for in his life? First Genji, then McCree. Both had meant the world to Hanzo, and yet he’d betrayed them both. Though, to be fair, a broken heart was objectively better than being murdered. At least McCree was (hopefully) still alive and well somewhere.

 

It was painful to think that Hanzo could never have his heart’s desire again, and that if by chance their paths should ever cross, the best he could hope for would be his ex simply tolerating his presence. Even if the cowboy could find it in his heart to forgive him, he was looking for something the archer couldn’t give. He was looking for a home, and he hoped he’d find it. Still, if the opportunity were to present itself, Hanzo would trade all of his tomorrows for one single yesterday to hold McCree’s body next to his.

 

The last thought that ran through Hanzo’s mind before he passed out was that if nothing else, McCree was still alive, and he himself was getting better at hurting his loved ones.

 

* * *

 

Did Hanzo have any right to feel betrayed? Between his killing Genji and his walking away from McCree, he had caused far too much pain in his lifetime to have any place feeling as though someone else had wronged him. And yet, here he was, feeling as though he had been wronged. He probably deserved such pain, though.

 

On his most recent trip to visit Hanamura and honor Genji, Hanzo had been attacked by a masked cyborg man, who then turned out to be his deceased little brother. Not only that, but he claimed he had forgiven him for attempting to kill him, said there was still hope for him, and invited him to join Overwatch, which was apparently trying to resurrect itself. With no idea what to say, what to do, what to feel, Hanzo had loosed another arrow on his brother, and action that he seriously regretted in retrospect.

 

He’d done some digging in the weeks since, and had discovered that Genji had once served in Blackwatch. Which meant that in the four years he and McCree had been together, his cowboy had known that the man he despised himself for killing was still alive, yet had seen fit to keep such knowledge to himself. Genji had every right to keep his survival a secret from Hanzo; he was the man he’d tried to kill, after all, but why would McCree keep such a secret from him? This man Hanzo had shared the secrets of his soul with, who knew full well how much he loathed himself for killing his brother, and McCree hadn’t even attempted to give him peace of mind over his greatest sin. He’d left him to wallow in self-hatred instead.

 

Maybe he’d done it for Genji’s sake. He knew the younger Shimada before he met the elder, so it made sense to think he was doing a favor for a friend. But Genji hadn’t been the one McCree had made love to, held in his arms at night, kissed in the mornings, travelled the country with, and shared his rawest of emotions with during his most vulnerable moments. He’d seen Hanzo after his night terrors, when he had earnestly and honestly begged McCree to end his life so he wouldn’t have to live with the weight of his mistakes and self-loathing anymore, and still he’d kept silent.

 

At what point do the feelings of a lover matter more than the feelings of a friend?

 

But then, Hanzo had to remind himself, he had no right to feel this way. If Genji hadn’t wanted him to know, then McCree had no right to tell him, no matter the state the archer was in, and Hanzo had no place feeling he was the victim.

 

It was the middle of the afternoon, but that didn’t stop Hanzo from drinking. Laying on his hotel bed, staring up at the ceiling as the warmth of the sake flowed through his system, he simply didn’t know what to do with himself. He couldn’t keep living this way, but by this point, did he even know any other way to live? The sad truth of the matter was no, he didn’t. Not when the only person he had to be with was himself.

 

Forcing himself off his bed, Hanzo trudged into the bathroom. He’d had far too much sake. As he was washing his hands, he caught a glimpse of his reflection in the mirror, and was instantly filled with a sense of burning hatred for the man looking back at him. Dear god did he look pathetic. His hair a mess, his clothes beyond wrinkled, his face pale from lack of sleep, his beard unkempt, and the dark bags under his eyes were hideous.

 

Ever since his meeting with Genji, Hanzo was finding it harder and harder to remain sober, and to look in the mirror without breaking it in rage (especially after he’d been thrown out of his last hotel for doing just that). He could feel that a breakdown was imminent, and Hanzo didn’t want to see how this one would end. If he didn’t do something soon, he would find out the hard way, and he had a feeling it wouldn’t end well. Were he to commit suicide now, he would only be failing Genji all over again. And perhaps McCree too.

 

Gazing into the bloodshot eyes in the mirror, Hanzo decided that if his reflection was going to cause him so much trouble, maybe changing it would be a good place to start. Maybe he could remake himself into a man he could actually stand to look at in the mirror. Maybe that could be the confidence boost, the stepping stone he needed to change the rest of himself.

 

With a deep breath and a nod of his head, he promised himself that yes, this was where he would start. Now the only question was what a Hanzo he could stand to have looking back at him actually looked like.

 

* * *

 

“You look like you stepped out of a PSA against aging hipsters.”

 

“Shut up, Genji.”

 

“Did you find those pants in a dumpster or did you have to custom order something so tragic? Why would you think a gold dragon on your ass is a good idea?”

 

“Need I remind you that you looked like a carrot once upon a time?”

 

“Yeah, in my early twenties. You’re what, forty?”

 

Hanzo merely sighed in response. As annoying as his brother was being right now, he couldn’t deny that it was nice to have him back in his life, and to know that deep down, despite everything, Genji was still the same little snot he’d always been. If he wanted to tease his big brother, then Hanzo would let him. After all he’d gone through, he deserved at least that much.

 

After months of weighing his options, thinking on Genji’s words, and wondering just what to do with the new Hanzo, he’d decided to follow his brother back to Gibraltar and, if nothing else, give Overwatch a chance. Genji had said that he would need to pick a side, and this had proven true when members of Talon had begun reaching out to him, trying to recruit him. It was disconcerting to think that a terrorist organization considered him to be a good fit for them, truth be told. Hanzo knew he was a bad person, but for literal terrorists to invite him to join them…

 

It was certainly a wake up call, to say the absolute least.

 

There was no chance Hanzo would ever consider joining Talon, though. He might not be certain on what he wanted from life, but whatever it was, he knew joining Talon was the wrong way to go about getting it. Besides, joining Talon would inevitably mean he would be pitted against Genji again, and there was no force on heaven or earth that could force him to hurt his brother and repeat his greatest mistake.

 

As for joining Overwatch however, well, that was a different story. Part of the reason it had taken Hanzo so long to come around on the organization was because while Talon was out of the question, he felt there was no inherent benefit to joining Overwatch. It provided Hanzo a chance to reconcile with the last of his family, but who knew how the other agents would receive him? If Genji had been recalled, it made sense to believe the other agents would be returning as well, and there was next to no chance they would think well of the man who had turned their friend, Genji, into what he was.

 

Ultimately, the deciding factor had been that the other agents of Overwatch couldn’t possibly hate Hanzo more than he hated himself. The chance to reconnect with Genji outweighed whatever others might think of him. This was likely his best chance for atonement, and he would be a fool to pass it up.

 

Not to mention, among the recalled agents might be a certain cowboy.

 

The war between his heart and his brain only grew worse the closer the Shimada brothers came to their destination of Watchpoint: Gibraltar. Hanzo’s brain knew damn well that it was both stupid and incredibly selfish to want McCree to take him back when it had been his fault they’d split, and yet his heart was dead set on holding onto that little sliver of hope that it could happen; that he could win back the best man he’d ever known. His brain told him that well after two years McCree had moved on, and his friendship was the best he could hope for, but his heart told him that what they’d had was special enough that the cowboy missed him too, and either way, he should take a chance so if nothing else he would be able to say he tried.

 

Pushing those two voices to the back of his mind, however, Hanzo instead focused on the questions he needed his ex to answer. First, of course, he needed to quell the nervousness and fear in his stomach as the watchpoint appeared in the distance.

 

“If I may say something, brother?” Genji said, yanking Hanzo from his thoughts. “I really am happy you decided to come with me. Even if you haven’t totally decided you’re going to join Overwatch, I’m glad you’re giving it a chance.”

 

“Yes, well… I cannot say I understand why you would want me back in your life, but that reason is your business. I do not think I deserve it, but if you truly want this, then I suppose it is the least I can do to make things up to you.” Hanzo confessed, trying to look his brother in his eye so he would see his sincerity, but with the visor in the way he could only hope his brother picked up on it.

 

Thankfully, it seemed he had as Genji put a hand on his shoulder. “I know you’ve always struggled with doubt, anija, and that you’ve always had trouble looking forward instead of back. I know that you spent years hating yourself, and in truth, I spent years hating you too. But I think we can move forward. This is the first step, and I know it must have been hard for you to take it. I’m proud of you, Hanzo.”

 

Hanzo’s breath caught in his throat. Never had he ever thought he would hear Genji’s voice, let alone hear him say something positive to him. Perhaps if he were alone, he would allow himself to shed a few tears. “Thank you, Genji...”

 

“And all teasing aside, you look good. Very daring, the undercut and the piercings. It’s very ‘Hanzo.’”

 

The elder brother allowed himself to smile, and hoped that Genji might be smiling as well beneath his faceplate. The second thoughts he’d had about joining his brother were beginning to fade away, slowly but surely, and it was refreshing to have some kind of direction at long last.

 

* * *

 

The first item of business upon arrival was introducing Hanzo to Winston, the one in charge of the new Overwatch, and getting him set up with a room of his own. After that, it was introducing him to everyone currently on the base, a process that could only be described as agonizing. Hanzo didn’t miss the looks of suspicion and resentment that the returning agents gave him. He’d fully anticipated them, though, and while he couldn’t deny the slight sense of hurt they had caused, he’d mostly felt numb.

 

There was one returning agent who hadn’t looked at Hanzo so cruelly, and he would hold onto the look on his face forever. When Genji had introduced his brother to McCree, the cowboy was instead surprised to see him. He’d played it off as being surprised to see Genji had reconciled with the man who’d made him into what he is, but Hanzo knew he was surprised to not only see him again, but as a member of Overwatch too, and his new look to boot.

 

The second he was done being introduced to everyone, Hanzo made his excuses and got away from his brother. He needed to get McCree alone for the talk he needed to have with him. Thankfully, the cowboy hadn’t been too hard to find, and the archer found him sitting atop one of the walkways around the watchpoint, watching the sun set over the sea and enjoying a bottle of whiskey. For years, Hanzo had rehearsed in his head just what he would say if he ever got to see McCree again, but suddenly that was all out the window, both because of his nerves and the new information he had regarding the things his former lover had never told him.

 

Looking down from his perch, the gunslinger caught sight of Hanzo on the ground, and waved his arm in an invitation for the other man to join him admiring the view. Taking a deep breath and steadying his nerves, Hanzo began scaling the walls until he was right next next to McCree.

 

The place he’d dreamed of being for years.

 

As he took a seat, the cowboy tipped his hat to him. “Impressive. I see y’ain’t lost a step.”

 

“You know me. I have never been one to simply sit around and let my skills grow rusty.”

 

“I know. You’re a man who’s always gotta be doin’ somethin’.” McCree said. Silence passed between the pair until he spoke up again. “Y’look good, by the way.”

 

As much as he didn’t want to, Hanzo couldn’t stop himself from blushing slightly. “You think so?”

 

“Course I do. The hair, the piercings, the jacket. Y’look fantastic, Hanzo.” Realizing what he had said, the cowboy coughed and took another swig from the bottle before passing it to his ex. The blush that spread across his own face was adorable, and Hanzo felt his heart tighten in his chest at the sight of it. “So, how’ve the years been treatin’ ya?”

 

“It had been… Something.” Hanzo said, taking a drink. He didn’t want to admit the extent of how lonely he had been without his cowboy, how much he’d regretted leaving him and how pitiful he was when left on his own. “I have been getting by. What about you?”

 

“Gettin’ by, just like you.”

 

Another period of silence, one the archer forced himself to break after another drink, lest he lose his mind. “You had always known Genji was alive. Why did you never tell me?” He asked, passing the bottle back. As much as he tried to keep his voice sounding nonchalant and even, the hurt seeped into his words.

 

McCree sighed and looked away, taking off his hat and running his fingers through his hair as he drank. “I wanted to. God help me, ya don’t know just how badly I wanted to n’ how many times I almost did. But it didn’t feel like it was my place to do so.”

 

“You knew how much I hated myself for what I had done, though. You had the power to help me out of that hole.”

 

“I know. There was nothin’ I wanted more than to be able to tell ya, but…” McCree began gesticulating his hands with frustration, struggling to find the words. “The Genji I knew back in Blackwatch, he was an angry, broodin’, bitter man. He had a lotta issues. I knew him before I knew you. I fought with him, n’ I spilled blood with him. Tellin’ ya that he was still alive felt like it’d be betrayin’ him, n’ I can’t go against the wishes of a man who’s saved my life. This new Genji, who’s at peace with himself n’ the world n’ acts real friendly to everybody? Quite frankly, he’s a stranger to me. The Genji I knew woulda held it against me forever, even if it was done with the best of intentions. He n’ I kept each other’s asses outta the fire a hundred times over, n’ ya don’t disrespect the your brother-in-arms.”

 

Hanzo was quiet as he let the explanation sink in, nodding. “I understand. But if you and Genji were so close, then why did you love me?”

 

“First off, Genji n’ I were never really what one would call ‘friends’. I tried to reach out to him, but he made it clear he wasn’t lookin’ for friends. We were more like coworkers, really.”

 

“That does not answer my question.”

 

“I know, I know. The thing is… You remember how we met, right?”

 

Hanzo nodded. “Of course. You were in Austin when the bounty hunters caught up to you. There were civilians everywhere, and I happened to be among them. I helped you fend them off, and you began following me around until you had a chance to return the favor.”

 

“Exactly.” McCree nodded. “The second I heard your name, I knew who ya were. ‘Specially since you n’ Genji look so much alike. I ain’t gonna lie, I _hated_ you at first. I didn’t know ya as a person, but I knew what ya did, n’ I hated ya on what I felt was Genji’s behalf. Only reason I hung around was cuz I felt I owed ya.” He looked ashamed of himself to admit he had once felt this way about a man he had loved, and took another drink, perhaps in the hopes he could swallow the guilt too.

 

Hanzo felt his heart sink at the explanation. To think that this man he adored had once viewed him with the same vitriol with which he viewed himself. The only thing keeping his heart from breaking was the knowledge that something had changed, and had allowed them to fall in love as a result. “What changed?” He asked.

 

“Well, if I recall correctly, it was four, maybe five months before your assassins caught up with ya n’ I had a chance to repay what ya’d done for me. In that time, I saw how ya beat yourself up for what ya’d done. How ya seemed intent on drinkin’ yourself to death, like that might somehow make up for it. I still had my doubts, but then I saw ya durin’ your night terror.” McCree looked away as the memory came back to him, not even glancing as he passed the bottle back. “Ya looked so genuinely miserable. I’ll never forget it. The way ya just kept cryin’ n’ cryin’. Your face was so pale, n’ your eyes were redder than my serape. The way ya cried Genji’s name in your sleep...” He looked back to his ex, brows knit in concern. “It shook me to see somebody I thought I hated so vulnerable n’ raw. ‘Specially since the only other person I’d ever seen lookin’ quite that sad was myself. Seein’ ya like that got me to thinkin’ that maybe ya weren’t the man I had ya pegged for. The rest is history.”

 

“That makes sense, I suppose. I certainly remember being ashamed to be seen in such a state.”

 

“I can understand that. But it was for the best, I think. After all, it led to the best thing that ever happened to me…” McCree’s voice trailed off, the last few words fading into something barely audible. But Hanzo had heard it, and the hope that the gunslinger might still feel something for him, might take him back went from a tiny spark to a roaring fire. Maybe if he could keep himself calm and casual...

 

Hanzo took another drink, then looked over the bottle in his hand. “I have not had whiskey in years. Drinking it was not fun without you.”

 

McCree chuckled. “Yeah. Same with me n’ sake. Pickin’ off bounty hunters ain’t much fun without ya either, but I ain’t got much of a say on that one.”

 

“I was on a ferris wheel not too long ago picking off some assassins from afar, and yet it was still terribly boring without you.” Hanzo said, feeling a smile spread across his face.

 

“I took a train down to New Orleans a few months ago. The whole time I was wishin’ there was someone to play my harmonica so I could do a li’l singin’.” The smile McCree gave made Hanzo feel warm, and let him know that now was the time to speak from his heart. There was no telling what the future might hold, and an opportunity like this might not present itself again.

 

Hanzo took a deep breath and looked his ex square in his eye. “Jesse, I am truly, truly sorry I left you.” The archer said. “You are the greatest man I have ever known, and the truth is I have regretted my foolish actions for the past two years. Is there any way you might find it in your heart to give me another chance?”

 

McCree was silent, then looked away from Hanzo out to the last light of the sun over the water on the horizon. “At first I told myself that this was karma for never tellin’ ya about Genji. I used to dream of seein’ ya again, n’ hearin’ ya say ya were sorry n’ wanted to be with me again. I always imagined myself sayin’ yes the second ya said it,” He said, and Hanzo could feel his heart beating faster. Perhaps there was a chance after all, but he needed to let the other man finish speaking before he could get his hopes too high.

 

McCree continued, “But now that it’s actually happenin’, I don’t rightly know what to make of this.” Finally, he looked back to Hanzo, and the look in his eyes made the regret that had haunted the archer come back stronger than ever, strangling his heart. “Ya broke my heart, Hanzo. How do I put that behind me?”

 

“I do not know, Jesse. Nor will I ask you to. It would be terribly unfair of me to expect you to do so. I only want you to know that…” Hanzo took a deep breath. “My love for you has never waned. Not in the slightest. All I ask is if there is any way I could prove this to you, and convince you when I say I will NEVER make the same mistake again. If there is any way to prove my sincerity, you need only tell me.”

 

McCree didn’t immediately respond, and Hanzo held his breath in anticipation. “Weeelll…” The cowboy drawled out, stroking his beard in thought. “I ain’t got nothin’ for that off the top of my head, but if ya give me time I’m sure I’ll come up with somethin’ eventually. For now though, maybe we start out slow again n’ just take things one day at a time?” He suggested.

 

The smile that spread across Hanzo’s face threatened to split his head in half. “That sounds perfect to me.” Soon he found himself wrapped in McCree’s strong embrace, and vice versa. There it was again, his cowboy’s smell of smoke, whiskey, and the dust of the desert. Never before had it smelled so sweet.

 

“I’ve missed ya so much, Hanzo.” McCree said quietly

 

Unable to stop himself, Hanzo kissed McCree’s cheek, and was beyond happy to see that the action brought a smile to the gunslinger’s handsome face. “And I have missed you, Jesse. More than you will ever know.”

**Author's Note:**

> This is the first fic I've finished AND posted online in a loooooong time, so apologies if it's a little rough! This is also my first time posting to AO3.  
> Special thanks to Ishy for being the ultimate beta and helping me edit this.
> 
> Find me at cosmosfactoryofcrap on tumblr, if you like.


End file.
